Not Myself Sequel 2: Memories
by Saerry Snape
Summary: COMPLETE. It's nine years after Haunted and things aren't going too well for those left behind after the war...
1. Memories of War

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter nor anything otherwise related. I do, however, make claim on NM Harry's personality as well as those of all the other canon characters and my original chars.

**Author's Note**

Many thanks to James Milamber, who volunteered to beta this and did a great job.

_Pray, we who are cursed_

_with the memories of War,_

_pray for us, please, thou who would._

_Pray for us that are beaten,_

_torn to shreds by memories of Loss._

_Pray for us that have stood_

_with our cold memories at our back._

_Pray for yourself_

_that you should never have memories as we._

"_Memories" by Saerry Lillianne Snape_

**Chapter 1 – Memories of War**

_…blood-stained hallway…a black wolf tearing apart a still living man. A WOMAN. No! NO! Not that woman…it can't…it can't…_

"_NIAMH!_" shouted Harold Jamison Snape as he sat bolt upright in his bed – the bed he and his beloved had shared until thirty-two years before. When she was taken from him.

Sucking in air that his lungs seemed to have decided to forget during his dream – no, _nightmare_ – he closed his eyes, wishing…

A vision of Niamh at their wedding, her blue eyes dancing with laughter at him, flashed across his mind's eye and his own green eyes snapped open. Harry let out a low, keening howl like an injured wolf before dropping his head into his hands. The rough pads of his fingers brushed over the jagged slash that had almost completely blinded his right eye as well as the four slash marks on his left cheek that he'd earned from Ariana Finnegan.

His broad, scarred shoulders shuddered and he let out a sob as his soul cried out for the soul that had matched it – a soul that no longer dwelt in the world of the living.

His sob turned back into a keen and then rose into a howl that swiftly changed from human to animal.

The heavily scarred black wolf that now stood on the king size bed shuddered then collapsed as its legs refused to hold it up any longer. It slumped into the mass of wrinkled blankets and stared with mournful emerald eyes across the room to a picture perched on the fireplace mantle.

In the picture, a younger Harry grinned as he swung his nine-year-old son Severus in a circle. From the other side of the frame, Niamh smiled at her husband as she cradled a squirming baby Saerry in her arms.

The picture showed a happy family.

Something he hadn't had in thirty-two years.

Whimpering, the wolf shifted, turning itself away from the picture. Tucking its nose under its tail, the wolf closed its emerald eyes and shuddered once before it went still except for its sides rising and falling with each breath.

- - -

"Saer? Saerry, are you home?"

"Uncle Sev!"

Severus winced at the ear-piercing voice then smiled at his nephew John, who was now nine-years-old.

"Hiya, kiddo. Where's your mum?"

"In the kitchen," replied John.

"Can you go get her for me?" asked Severus as he shifted uncomfortably on his side of the fireplace. With so many old scars, he wasn't cut out for kneeling in front of a fireplace. But to talk to his little sister as quickly as possible, he'd go through any amount of pain.

John nodded several times before dashing off. Severus could hear his little feet pattering on the stone floors of the Longbottom house right up until he hit the swinging door of the kitchen.

A minute later the door swung open again and the soft sound of bare feet more practiced at walking silently came to his ears. His sister Saerry entered the room then and smiled at him, her blue eyes warm and welcoming.

"Sev," she said as she sank down to a knee in front of the fireplace. "Why don't you come on through? I know how kneeling in front of a fireplace does you no good."

Severus smiled inwardly and chuckled. In more ways than one, his little sister was just like their mother.

Especially in the fact that she had inherited some of the woman's telepathic and empathic powers.

"Alright," he said, pulling back from the fire. He then stepped through his own fire and came out in front of his sister's – with her standing directly in front of him.

Saerry smiled warmly up at him and threw her arms about his broad chest, laying her head against him.

"I've missed you," she murmured.

"And I you, Ry," whispered Severus as he gave her a brief hug. He then gently pushed her back and sighed, saying, "But I'm not here to reminisce."

Saerry frowned then her eyes widened.

"_Father?_"

"He's getting worse," said Severus. "With every year he just gets _worse_. Last night…last night he dreamed of Mum again. I think he fell asleep in his wolf form because of it."

"But his isn't like an Animagus form," said Saerry with fear in her voice. "He can't lose himself in the animal, Sev!"

"I know. But…I don't know what to do, Saer! I don't know…I don't…"

"What? _Sev?_"

Severus closed his eyes and turned slightly away from his sister as he whispered, "I don't know that I could keep him from taking his own life if he so chose. I…I don't think I could do it."

"Sev…"

"He's _hurting_, Saer. More than any of us have ever thought. Without Mum he's nothing. _Nothing!_ He's lost!"

Saerry placed a hand on her brother's arm and found it to be shaking. Smiling sadly, she said, "So are you."

Severus' face fell and Saerry saw the fierce hurt in her brother's eyes for the first time in many years. Her heart ached then for her brother as well as for their father, for whom she knew the pain was a thousand times worse.

"Let's go to him," she finally said. "He's still at the manor, isn't he?"

Severus just nodded then cursed as he glanced across the room at the grandfather clock that was a Longbottom heirloom.

"Bugger! I'm supposed to be at the Ministry!"

"Problems?" asked Saerry, her eyes darkening as she remembered the exact incident that had taken their mother's life.

Severus smiled reassuringly and bent to kiss her forehead.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Ry. Just some security measures the Commander wants me to go over with him and Shacklebolt."

"Oh. Are you sure you can't come with me?"

"I would if I could," assured Severus. He took her hands in his own and kissed each before squeezing them gently. "He may respond to you more than me. I think I remind him too much of Mum."

Saerry frowned in confusion and Severus shrugged, saying, "I don't know why, he's never explained. But I haven't been able to talk sense into him for years."

"Okay," said Saerry softly. "You go on to the Ministry and do your job before Uncle Draco sends Marcus after you."

"Aye, m'lady," said Severus as he kissed her hand again. He then turned and took the pot of Floo Powder from the mantle, throwing a handful of it into the fireplace.

"Ministry of Magic!" he shouted into the green flames. "Minister's office, Severus Jardin Snape, Head of Security entering!"

He turned to smile reassuringly over his shoulder at his sister then stepped into the fireplace to disappear in a swirl of flames. Saerry stood in front of the fireplace until the flames returned to their original color before she turned and went to find her husband and inform him of where she was about to be going.


	2. Memories of Loss

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter nor anything otherwise related. I do, however, make claim on NM Harry's personality as well as those of all the other canon characters and my original chars.

_Pray, we who are cursed_

_with the memories of War,_

_pray for us, please, thou who would._

_Pray for us that are beaten,_

_torn to shreds by memories of Loss._

_Pray for us that have stood_

_with our cold memories at our back._

_Pray for yourself_

_that you should never have memories as we._

"_Memories" by Saerry Lillianne Snape_

**Chapter 2 – Memories of Loss**

"…_cough, cough…_Father? Father, are you here?"

Saerry slowly picked herself up off the floor of her father's study, which she had ended up in by tripping over her own feet getting off the Floo. Looking around the office, she noted that her father's book was sitting in the center of his desk with a fine layer of dust atop it. Moving behind the beast of a desk, she carefully picked up the book, which was the original copy that all the adventures of her father and mother's years at Hogwarts had been recorded in, and brushed the dust from its cover and bindings.

Gently replacing it, she slowly left the study, her hand trailing along the fine engravings on the wall. When she entered the front foyer after traveling down the corridor, Marly was there waiting for her.

"Young miss!" exclaimed the house-elf, her eyes bright. "What is you doing here?"

"My father, Marly," said Saerry. "Where is he?"

Marly's ears drooped and she murmured, "Master is very unwell, young miss. Very, very unwell."

"I know."

"Marly hears Master howling sometimes and wishes she could help."

Saerry smiled warmly at the elf that had been a part of her and her brother's lives since they were born. The house-elf was older than her father and had served her grandfather before coming to take control of Ashdeir Fierion's kitchen. She was also an integral part of their family.

"I wish I could too," said Saerry softly. "Can you tell me where he is?"

"Upstairs, young miss," replied Marly. "Master did not come to breakfast. Master Etienne could not get Master to come eat, either. Marly was sad."

"Perhaps I can get him down…"

The house-elf perked up a little and smiled up at Saerry.

"Marly would like that. Marly would like very much to see Master, young miss."

Saerry smiled sadly and murmured, "So would I, Marly. So would I…"

- - -

"Father?"

Saerry carefully pushed the door of her parent's bedroom open, shocked to find the entire room engulfed in darkness. She started to reach for her wand when a low growl sounded from somewhere to her right.

Ceasing her movement, she looked in that direction and whispered, "Father?"

The growling continued for a moment before there was the soft sound of bones and flesh rearranging. A moment later, her father's deep voice spat, "Go away."

"Father, I…"

"_Go away_," repeated Harry in a louder voice. "Just leave me be."

"_No_," said Saerry in a voice that brooked no argument. She swung the door open fully and waved her hand about the room. With a single murmured word and that gesture, every light in the room came up.

She almost wished she hadn't brought them up.

Her father sat in the floor beside the large bed, a single tattered sheet drawn haphazardly about his shoulders. One scarred hand gripped the sheet in a white-knuckled fist whilst his other – the one that had been possessed years earlier by the Gauntlet of Aerilsed – clutched possessively at a small photograph of her mother. His dark hair, which was generally in a neat tail, clouded about his face in a tangled mass that more resembled Hermione Malfoy's hair than his normally straight locks. And from behind that cloud of hair burned a pair of bloodshot emerald eyes that were fixed on Saerry with anger in their smoldering depths. She could also see new wounds over his shoulders, chest, and arms; obviously they had been self-inflicted and not cared for. The blood that had run from them had not even been washed away and stained the sheet he had about his shoulders.

He looked worse now than he had the day _after_ her mother had died.

"Father…" breathed Saerry as she took in the sight of him. "What…"

"Leave me alone," spat Harry, turning away from his daughter. "Just leave me alone, Saerry. Go live your life and leave me alone to die in peace."

"_No_," said Saerry fiercely. "I won't do that, Father." She crossed the space between them and sank down beside him, wincing as he pulled away from her.

"What has happened to you?" she asked. "You were okay nine years ago. What changed?"

"'Okay?'" repeated Harry. "I was never _'okay'_, daughter mine. I haven't been _'okay'_ since your grandfather died. And even less so since your mother."

"Father…"

"Go. Away," snarled Harry, his eyes glinting with animalistic fury. When she didn't move, he released the sheet from his grip and shoved her back. She fell and bounced slightly on her bottom, her eyes focused on his scarred face the entire time.

"Leave. Me. Alone," repeated Harry. "Leave me alone with my grief and my memories."

"What of my grief?" asked Saerry in a loud voice, shifting back to her knees. "What of my memories? I remember Mum, too! You aren't the only one!"

"She was my _life!_" shouted Harry, now furious. "She…she…I am _nothing_ without her, Saerry. You don't understand. I'm nothing…" He shuddered as his body bent in on itself, head hanging down so his face was hidden behind his hair. "I am nothing without her."

"Father…"

She reached out to touch his bare shoulder but her fingertips only got within an inch of him before a breath of wind gusted through her hair. After that she only had an instant to haul a weak shield around herself as her father's head came up. The white's of his eyes had gone black and his long hair rose like the hackles of his wolf form.

"_LEAVE!_" he roared, his voice full of not only pain but his will. That will used his magic and hurled Saerry from the room and into the hallway on a gust of howling wind.

She slammed into the wall then fell to the floor in an aching heap, a picture dropping from it's place on the wall to jab one corner of it's frame into her left ankle. Lifting her head, she glimpsed her father one last time before the door slammed shut in her face, the wind from it gusting through her hair.

Her senses overhauled with her own pain and her father's, Saerry began to pull herself to her feet…only to find gentle hands on her shoulders assisting her in the matter. Looking up, she found the still youthful face of her great-uncle gazing at her.

"Hello, cub," said Etienne Daladier warmly as he pulled his great-niece to her feet. His black eyes then flicked over to the closed door. "You've seen him."

Saerry just nodded and turned her face towards the door, the expression on her face a sad one.

"What happened to him, Uncle?"

"Many things, cub," replied Etienne, dropping his hands from her shoulder. He bent slightly to rub the old wound on his right leg then straightened up and began to limp down the hallway towards his own room.

"Uncle?" queried Saerry after him.

Etienne looked at her over his shoulder. "Come with me, cub. I favor a strong drink and a comfortable chair."

"You also want to get as far away from Father as you can."

The blond-haired man winced then nodded.

"Aye, I do." He sighed and licked his lips before saying softly, "He reminds me of his father in this state."

Saerry blinked at that.

"Grandfather went through the same thing?"

"He lost the only woman he ever truly loved to a man he hated. He lost his mother to our father. He lost _me_ to our father's anger and my own stupidity. And he lost his life in the end."

"But he gave it for Father," said Saerry as she followed Etienne into the small study that was a part of the man's rooms. "Him and Jardin."

"Yes," confirmed Etienne as he limped over to his chair by the fire. He sank into it with a groan and leaned forward to rub his leg again. "Beastly wound. Winter just doesn't agree with it."

"Uncle."

"I know, cub, I know."

Etienne leaned back into his chair and sighed, closing his eyes.

"Your grandfather did give his life for your father…but he lost so much within his lifetime. Including a precious number of years stolen from him by not knowing he had a child. Your father didn't lose much until just recently as you know."

Saerry nodded as memories she had buried of the war fourteen years before came back to her. She remembered Mischa Weasley, who had only been married for five years to Ron Weasley, had died at her very _side_ as they had fired fire and poison tipped arrows onto the enemy. And she recalled seeing Jennifer Davids in her wolf form jumping in front of a Killing Curse for her – an act that had thrown her twin brother into a killing frenzy that had gotten him killed. Their mother Ginny had charged out of the bow lines the moment her children had been slain and had plowed into the enemy, killing nearly forty of them in her fury before they took the fiery-haired witch down. She had then seen her husband Mika and her twin brother's Fred and George enter the fray after her and die as she had.

So many had died on that battlefield… The people Saerry had grown up with, the men and women she had called Aunt and Uncle and the children she had known as Cousins. Her only cousin in actuality, Sirius Black, had been slaughtered and then avenged by her father.

No, her father had not lost everything when his wife, his beloved Niamh had been killed by poison.

He had lost everything when all of his friends but the Malfoy's had been slain. And he had lost many of his classmates and their children.

"That still doesn't explain it, Uncle," whispered Saerry as she sank down into the chair across from him.

Etienne sighed at that and frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

"Cub," he said, "I do not know what to tell you."

"Tell me how to help him!"

"I cannot."

"You mean you _won't_."

Etienne turned his black gaze upon the witch and said, "Cub, if I could heal Harry, I would. I would move the Heavens and Hell to bring back all that was torn from him. But I can't. And I don't know how to heal his hurt."

"Except to kill him, you mean," hissed Saerry, hating herself for saying and even thinking it.

There was a cold silence in the room for a moment.

"Yes," whispered Etienne, closing his eyes. "I hate myself for saying it but yes. I fear it is the only…"

"_It's not the only way! It can't be!_"

"Child," said Etienne. "Let him _go_. By all the gods that have protected us, _let him go!_"

Saerry sobbed and cried, "He's my _father!_ How can you ask me that?"

Etienne reached forward and lifted her chin so she looked into his face. He frowned deeply, lines creasing his face as he spoke.

"The same way I can ask myself to let him go. And the same way I can ask Draco or Hermione or your brother to let him go. We need not hold him here any longer."

"My _God_, Uncle, do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes, cub, I know."

Saerry blinked then sniffed, brushing tears from her eyes.

"You know what that would do."

"It would make Severus the Head of the Snape Line since I am simply a bastard child. Yes, cub, I know what that would do."

"He won't agree."

"Severus?"

Saerry nodded and Etienne frowned. He then said, "He need not agree. This is, and has always been, your father's choice."

"Do you think he would? Do you think he…he would take his own life?"

Etienne sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, Saerry saw his answer in his eyes and felt it before he spoke.

"To see Niamh again, cub, Harry would do the Darkest of Arts."


	3. Cold Memories

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter nor anything otherwise related. I do, however, make claim on NM Harry's personality as well as those of all the other canon characters and my original chars.

_Pray, we who are cursed_

_with the memories of War,_

_pray for us, please, thou who would._

_Pray for us that are beaten,_

_torn to shreds by memories of Loss._

_Pray for us that have stood_

_with our cold memories at our back._

_Pray for yourself_

_that you should never have memories as we._

"_Memories" by Saerry Lillianne Snape_

**Chapter 3 – Cold Memories**

"You _let_ him do this!"

"It was his choice," said Etienne, not cringing before his great-nephew's ire. The boy may have his half-brother's name but he hadn't the other Snape's temper.

"Damn it to Hell, Uncle, you should have stopped him!"

"Severus," began Hermione but was cut off as an enraged Severus whirled on her.

"_NO!_" he shouted. "This wasn't right! They shouldn't have let him do it. _Father shouldn't be DEAD!_"

"But he _is_, Sev," said Draco gently, his gray eyes sad. He glanced beyond the raging wizard to the bed where Harry lay still. His eyes lowered to the wizard's hands where a picture of himself, Niamh, and their children was clutched, its edge just barely stained by the blood that had flowed from his slit wrists. "He's gone."

Severus whirled towards the Minister then let out a low groan of anguish. He turned his head slightly and focused sad eyes on the still form of his father in the next room.

"Sev…" started Saerry but Severus cut her voice off by stalking off down the hallway. She began to go after him but Hermione stopped her short.

"Don't," said the still bushy-haired witch, who had been the Headmistress of Hogwarts since the death five years before of Dumbledore's successor, Minerva McGonagall. "Leave him be for a while."

"I can't," breathed Saerry. "I don't know what else to do."

"_Rest_," intoned Etienne, passing his hand in front of her face. Magic pulsed from his hand and Saerry's body abruptly slumped into his arms, asleep. The older wizard grunted and looked at Draco, grumbling, "You wouldn't mind giving an old man a hand, would you?"

"You're only eighty-eight, man," said Draco as he flicked his wand, conjuring a cot to put the sleeping witch on. "That's not old."

"Tell that to my right leg."

Draco snorted then helped the other blonde settle Saerry onto the cot. They had just managed this when James Longbottom, Saerry's husband, appeared at the end of the hallway. Nine-year-old John Longbottom trailed behind his father, his blue eyes wide to take in all around him.

Hermione immediately scooped up the young boy before he could see his grandfather's corpse and carried him downstairs towards the kitchen. Draco managed a weak smile at his wife's quick thinking then watched James as the wizard peered at Harry's corpse.

"So it finally happened."

"You've been expecting this?" asked Etienne.

James nodded and replied, "Ever since the war ended. Father was just as surprised as I that he didn't end his life then."

"He wanted to live for them," said Draco, "for Severus and Saerry."

"And he didn't now, fourteen years later?"

Etienne shook his head in response then looked up as Dorian Malfoy and Neville Longbottom came up the staircase at the same time, both of their faces grave. The Malfoy heir nodded to his father then turned to Etienne, bowing slightly.

"I'm very sorry for being late, Uncle Eti."

"No matter, boy," said Etienne, remembering a time when the wizard before him had been a child and he had taught Dorian and his great-nephew to play MechWarrior. He then shook off the memories and added, "There is no lateness with the dead."

"Only that one was too late to save them."

"Clever as his mother," remarked Neville as he looked at Harry's body. He grimaced then looked at Draco, asking, "Does Severus know he's Head of the Line now?"

The Minister of Magic nodded and Neville sighed, shaking his head.

"Poor boy…"

"Poor both of them," said Dorian. "Hasn't their family been through enough?"

"The Snape's have always had hardship," said Etienne. "But we have prevailed."

"Officially you're not a Snape, Etienne," said Draco, arching one blonde eyebrow.

Etienne arched a graying eyebrow at the Minister and said, "I wasn't aware I had to be."

Draco just smiled at that.

"You don't."

"What of the funeral preparations?" asked Neville, bringing their attention back to the body in the next room. "Did he want anything?"

"Only to be buried next to Niamh," replied Etienne. "The quicker we do as such, the better for us all, I think."

"How so?" asked Dorian, his brown eyes narrowed.

"Easier to begin healing."

"Severus hasn't healed after his mother's death thirty-two years ago," said Draco. "I'm not even sure we should put him through the trials of being Head of the Line."

"He's the eldest Snape," said Etienne. "I cannot claim the title and neither can Saerry as she is a Longbottom now. Young John could possibly claim it but that would leave either the Longbottom or Snape name open, depending which way he leaned."

"Then it must be Severus," said Neville. "Where is he, by the way?"

Etienne sighed and replied, "Likely pacing somewhere by now."

"Hmm," said Draco. "I suggest we adjourn to the kitchen, gents. We have a lot to do and a very short time to do it in."

- - -

"We gather here today to bid farewell to Harold Jamison Snape…"

"Aren't you going to come closer?"

Severus turned his head to look coldly down at his sister before he returned his eyes to the coffin that held their father's body.

"No," he snapped icily in response.

Saerry gave him a pitying look and lifted a hand, sending feelings of warmth and love towards him. Severus brushed them off with a casual shrug, causing her to wince.

She then whispered, "I know you're angry, Sev. So am I. But it was Father's life, to do with as he willed."

"What about _us_?" spat Severus.

"What about _him_?" shot Saerry back. She then sighed and shook her head before walking towards the small crowd gathered around the grave.

Severus watched her go with an icy gaze then turned and stalked off into the gardens. He somehow wandered into the rose beds his mother had planted and tended during the last few years of her life and stood there, taking in the sight of the red roses, kept alive in the winter cold by magic.

Shivering, he pulled his heavy cloak tighter about himself and sat down on a stone bench. Hanging his head, he idly reached up to touch the completely different set of braided cord attached to his shoulder. Before it had been that of the Heir of a Line. Now it was that of a Head of a Line, a title he had hoped he'd not hold for a while longer.

And if he didn't make haste, he'd be the _last_ Head of the Snape Line. His one nephew would take over the Longbottom Line eventually since there was no other Heir for that Line.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked the rose beds that spread before him. He dropped his head into his hands, fingers tangling in his dark hair. "Tell me, Father, Mother, what am I supposed to do without either of you to guide me?"

Live. 

Severus' head shot up and he gasped as he saw, transparent but _there_, his parents standing before him. Harry smiled thinly at his son, his eyes still emerald bright despite the fact that he was a spirit. Beside him Niamh gripped her husband's hand as her blue eyes took in her only son's lean form.

_Severus_, she said, her voice barely audible. He could just barely hear her, as though something was blocking his hearing.

"Mum…" he breathed, his voice choked with emotion. Idly he thought that this must be how his father had felt seeing his own mother before him.

_You have a duty_, said Niamh Snape, her eyes sad. _You have a duty to your sister and to your family. Do it._

"How?" asked Severus.

_Live_, repeated Harry. _I know it hurts but you must._

"You didn't."

Harry winced at the accusing tone but nodded all the same.

I know.

"Why?"

Your mother was my heart and soul, son. I barely survived the years without her. The only thing that truly kept me going besides you and your sister was the war. When that was over…there wasn't much left for me to do.

"There was us," said Severus.

Harry smiled tightly. _I was a street rat, a warrior, and a murderer, Severus. All those things had a tighter hold upon me than my own children. After the war, I couldn't live._

"I still don't _understand_."

_You don't have to_, said Niamh. _Just let us go, Verus. We love you and Saerry very much, but we must move on. Only you hold us here._

Tears welled in Severus' eyes and he started to will them back but remembered what Thomas Ymber had said to him at his mother's funeral.

"Don't hold it back. Your father would not want you to hide your emotions."

Remembering those words from a man dead fourteen years made Severus completely lose it. Tears he hadn't shed in far too many years rushed past his defenses and left him sobbing pitifully on the cobblestone walkway.

Cold fingers touched his cheek gently and he tilted his head to look up into his mother's gentle face.

_We love you so much_, whispered Niamh. _Remember that always, Verus._

_Yes_, said Harry. _Remember._

"I will," gasped Severus, pushing himself up onto his knees even as sobs still wracked his body. He looked around and found that both spirits had vanished. "Mum? Dad?"

"Severus?"

He looked up and saw Saerry standing there, her blue eyes gazing curiously at him. She then frowned and asked, "Have you been crying?"

Severus blinked then smiled and nodded even as he brushed the wetness from his cheeks.

"Yes," he said, getting to his feet and approaching her. "Shedding tears I haven't shed in a long time."

"Sev, are you okay? You're sounding…odd."

"I'm fine, Ry," said Severus. "I just got…reminded…of some things."

Saerry frowned at him then said, "They're about to lower the coffin. I thought you'd like to come."

"Yes," said Severus, surprising his little sister. "I would."

He straightened the braids on his shoulder and then took his sister's hand, walking with her back through the gardens.

"It's time I faced what's before me."

Author's Notes 

Please, for the love of this author's _head_ (and other important body parts), don't kill me. I truly – _TRULY_ – did not mean for this to end this way. I tried ever so much to figure out another way to do this, to end it without Harry's death but…I couldn't.

Killing him pains me as much as it likely pains some of you. In the two and a half years I've worked on the Not Myself series, I've come to love my characters as much as you guys. This Harry is one of my favorites among those that I've created and the cast that came along with him also ranks highly on my list. Niamh, Mika, Mischa, Amanda, Jardin, this series' Ron, Draco, Hermione, Sev, and every other character that I can think of at the moment. Even Mrs. Norris, whose relationship with Harry came out of sheer nowhere (much like all _else_ in NM).

Even though Memories is complete, leaving most of the NM cast dead (winces), Harry and the gang are not done yet. The story of Harry's life on the streets still is on schedule as well as the AU of Not Myself, where Harry grows up with Severus and not Argil. Perhaps even another chapter of Brother Mine can be done! I've not the foggiest idea of what my mind (and my muses) will get into their heads to do, so I can't guarantee anything. But I swear that the cast of NM is not yet done and even when they are, I know that you guys – you faithful readers and you newbie's – will keep rereading the NM series and keep telling people about it. So by that, it'll keep living.

Kinda scary, isn't it? Amazing how one can change so many people by just writing a simple story. looks at number of chapters in Not Myself and swallows Erm…well, maybe not a _simple_ story. Maybe a simple piece of fanfiction is a better description.

Anyway, I suppose I should end this Note before it becomes as long as the first chapter. Thank you guys so much for sticking with me for these two and a half years. Without you all, the NM series probably wouldn't have been finished as much as it has. I know its just a piece of fanfiction and will never be published but I'm still proud of it. Maybe it's crazy to be proud of a piece of fanfiction but…I am. Proud that I wrote something that people _liked_. It gives me hope that I can write something original – something of my _own_ making – and make it work. I don't know it you guys know what that means to me so I'll tell you…it means _a lot_. Writing is what I love (as you can tell from my massive amounts of fanfiction – and poetry if you've visited my FictionPress account) and what I want to do with my life. If I can make a piece of fanfiction work, half using characters that aren't mine – and half plagiarizing if you get down to it – I'm certain I can make an original fic work.

So, thanks, you guys. And thanks to you, James, for beta reading this.

gives hugs and Chocolate Frog's to anyone who's _EVER_ reviewed a fic in the NM series – even Borg, whose comments made me determined to keep writing and never give up no matter what

saerry


End file.
